Daily Prompt :-) Oh Those Eyes

Happy National Poetry Month! My daughter and I agree that her beautiful baby boy has my mother’s eyes. Oh those eyes❤

Eyes:

by William Matthews

the only parts of the body the same   

size at birth as they’ll always be.   

“That’s why all babies are beautiful,”   

Thurber used to say as he grew   

blind—not dark, he’d go on   

to explain, but floating in a pale   

light always, a kind of candlelit   

murk from a sourceless light.   

He needed dark to see: 

for a while he drew on black   

paper with white pastel chalk   

but it grew worse. Light bored   

into his eyes but where did it go?   

Into a sea of phosphenes, 

along the wet fuse of some dead   

nerve, it hid everywhere and couldn’t   

be found. I’ve used up 

three guesses, all of them 

right. It’s like scuba diving, going down   

into the black cone-tip that dives   

farther than I can, though I dive   

closer all the time.

 

Make art about eyes, about what eyes might see, or who we see in a loved one’s eyes.